


What Does Christmas Feel Like

by Reed_Between_the_Nines



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A family can be four men and their dog, Brief mention of religious objects but no religion, Connor cannot cook but he tries, Fluff, Hank dressed as Santa wink wonk, Kamski is there for better or for worse, M/M, No Smut but I wish, Sumo Stans Come Get Your Juice, This Holiday Everyone Will Be Loved, mild alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reed_Between_the_Nines/pseuds/Reed_Between_the_Nines
Summary: Secret Santa Fic for my dearest friend Pudding who is a part of my own found family!Family can mean many things, but, for this little group, it means time spent together reclaiming the holidays, sharing gifts, sharing memories, and stealing kisses.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	What Does Christmas Feel Like

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Polaroid_Memoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polaroid_Memoir/gifts).



> Snack Pack Secret Santa gift for the lovely, the talented, the sweet and jiggly Pudding! I love you to pieces, my friend, and I hope that this fulfills that warm winter feeling you were hoping for. From this found family to our own, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and joy filled holidays, love.

There’s something mesmerizing about the soft glow of a window pane frosted by delicate snowflakes and foggy breath, a hazy vision beckoning forward where such a sight exists as to fill a person with a kind of warmth that consumes. Like a crackling log aflame, it alights, it fulfills, it unfurls slowly in places that might seem too dark to reach but have room for it yet. There is nothing in the world quite like that, Connor thinks, one hand cold from the weather but so warm against Nines’s and the other pressing against chilled glass.

“Let’s go,” Nines murmurs to him softly, squeezing plasteel whiter than the snowflakes that have gathered on Connor’s lashes. “We’ll need to make it home before our guest if we want to have dinner ready.” It's still a way home from the crowded and bustling shopping distract to the sleepy neighborhood on the bay. With the last light of day casting flames on the sidewalk, they know they have little time before it grows colder and dreary. Home will be much pleasanter with its fireplace and Sumo's warmth.

Connor smiles, small and indulging, and gives a little nod of his head though he seems reluctant to abandon that lovely market window he's been enchanted by. Although the Menorah and the nativity scene are both foreign religious objects to the android, he has seen a statue of RA9 just like the one in the window before. It looks delicate, as though it were placed there hastily. But it _is_ there, nonetheless. Perhaps, Connor hopes, its presence means that this holiday will belong to them all.

“What did you buy for Gavin?” Connor inquires quietly once they’re home, dancing around an excited Sumo while notes of cinnamon and citrus fill the air from the spiced cider warming on the stove and they bumble about Hank’s little kitchen. Just the three of them already barely fit, and Hank and Gavin have yet to come home. Maybe the house has outgrown their little family, but somehow it feels just perfect that way, just a little too small, like the familiar sweater that Connor urged Hank to squeeze into this morning, belly swollen against the knitting and threatening to peek beneath the stretched yarn.

Nines makes a snorting sound--something Connor just knows he has adopted from Gavin--, and nods toward the ever growing pile of presents under the tree Hank had hauled in early this month. “He isn’t hard to shop for, surprisingly. It’s a mug that says, ‘World’s Finest Asshole.’ Almost anything will make him happy if it’s from me." Nines says it smugly, but he’s earned the right, and Connor knows better than to call him on it. It took so long to break Gavin’s walls down, to tame him from that wild thing he had been to something a little softer but just as wild where it counts. Nines had done what no one believed possible, and now they can even expect him tonight for Christmas Eve. In Hank’s house. With Connor present.

The RK800 smiles, stirring idly at the vegetables stewing in the large pot on the stove. “It seems appropriate, for Gavin at least.” Nines snorts again, and the sound is a comfort on Connor’s heart. There had been such a long time after the revolution before they finally found Nines, hidden away in CyberLife tower, deviated but completely alone and abandoned. He’d been silent, stoic, emotionless for the longest time simply because he knew nothing else. But he became family no matter, a part of Hank and Connor’s life that was just right. Nines was Connor’s only family, aside from Hank, and they knew he belonged here with them, so they brought him home. This is their family now, no matter how unconventional.

Their first Christmas together, though, has been something of a trial and error for them all. Hank has never felt at ease with holidays, and even with the family that is here, he’ll always miss what he once had. Filling the house with music, with laughter, and even with Gavin’s annoying quips has gone a long way towards bringing Hank’s smile back. Connor thinks that, maybe, Hank might even be looking forward to this Christmas Day. He certainly hopes so. To wake up tomorrow in Hank’s arms, to a genuine smile, to a white landscape outside, and Gavin and Nines bickering in the kitchen will be a memory Connor will log forever.

Sumo barks, startling Connor enough that he jars the pot, splashing broth across his crisp button down. “Shit,” Connor growls, and--okay--maybe he’s picked up some habits from being around Hank and Gavin himself.

“Move, inferior model,” Nines teases, earning a hip check from the older android, but Connor yields anyway and heads to Hank’s and his--Hank’s and his!--room to change his clothes. His own shirts, not ever as loud as his lover’s, are still an array of colors, ones for each mood. Blue when he’s happy, red when he’s mad, green when he feels like pouting over an emotion he can't yet identify ("It's jealousy," Hank always helpfully supplies). He isn’t sure how this came about, matching colors to his mood, but Hank seems to like it, greeting Connor with a kiss in the evening and a, “Ah, let me order a pizza and we can cuddle,” when Connor’s sad or a flirtatious wink when Connor's wearing his pink shirt.

Tonight, however, none of these feel right. Connor...Connor feels so much! Excited to exchange presents with his family, nervous to please, happy to have this moment, and even a little...melancholy, that must be it. Melancholy that so many wouldn’t have a moment just like this. What a curious feeling, he thinks, to feel sad about not being able to share this with the entire world.

Connor thinks he may be the luckiest android alive to have this family of his.

“Connor, hurry up. Your dog is bumping into my knees.”

“He wants to be pet!” Connor laughs, quickly reaching for one of Hank’s sweaters instead of his own. It will swamp him, and it’s probably not appropriate for a nice holiday gathering, but there just isn’t anything quite like being surrounded by Hank.

“Babe!” a very loud, very irritating voice booms through the house, and Sumo barks in surprise.

“Hello, love...and...Mr. Kamski…”

Connor freezes in the hallway, sure he’s heard Nines wrong. They most definitely did not invite--

“Ah, Connor. We meet again.” And there he is, Elijah Kamski, albeit much more dressed than the last time Connor had had the misfortune of meeting him. He’s in jeans and a jacket, glasses on the tall bridge of his nose, hair in a loose ponytail. It’s not quite the cutting, pristine image Connor would have expected of Elijah outside of his pool robe. It’s like he’s come for, well, a family get together.

Gavin’s shifting from foot to foot, pointedly not looking at either of the androids, and it’s then that both Connor and Nines seem to make the connection. These Kamski faces are distinctly similar.

“My, uh, my brother,” Gavin confirms, voice hitching a little. Elijah just flashes a large grin.

Nines arches and eyebrow, and Connor just shrugs before gesturing toward the kitchen. “Well, I hope you like vegetable soup. You can hang your jacket by the door.” It’s as much as permission as anyone’s going to get, and Gavin seems to instantly relax. He leans forward, stealing a kiss from Nines before heading straight to the spiced cider.

“Thought we could have a real family holiday,” he adds, ready to explain himself, and Nines offers him a forgiving, even happy smile. Their lips meet again, and Connor notices the very pleased, very content expression that crosses Kamski’s face. Despite the strange addition to their evening, it seems right to have him here too. His presence settles in, close to Gavin’s side most of the time, and Nines makes a determined effort to engage him in conversation. It’s admirable, considering the android is talking to one of the most influential men in the company that tossed him out after the revolution.

“Where’s Hank?” Gavin asks halfway through drinking his soup broth and poking around the carrots and peas with a mild look of disdain. Nines grabs at his spoon, forcing the man to stop pushing the food around in his bowl. Connor has served dinner in Hank’s finest dishes which are a sorry excuse for China, but it’s the best that they have, and Connor can read the stories in each nick in the porcelain like it’s a well-loved book. The reflection of his LED casts a shade of blue on the porcelain that matches the ornaments he has hung lovingly on the branches of their Christmas tree. There are no family ornaments, and it looks mostly commercial, sterile even, but Connor hopes to soon change that.

“Hank said he’ll be late,” Connor responds a little disappointedly as he sips at a cup of thirium. Sumo perks his head up at the name of his favorite human, long, bushy tail whacking the table leg enthusiastically. The RK800 leans down to pet him into complacency once more, ignoring the narrowed gaze of his former least favorite coworker.

“Well, I want some fuckin’ dessert. Your cooking sucks, Con.”

“That’s hardly polite, little brother,” Elijah coos, and Connor swears he sees steam rising from Gavin’s face.

“I’m shorter, not younger, jerkoff!”

The door swings open in a flurry of snow and wind, silencing the ensuing argument, and Sumo jumps to his paws to bark loudly at the bulky figure in the doorway. Connor can’t see the figure standing there, but he knows that build, could recognize it behind his eyelids during stasis, can recreate it with his processors although they’re intended for far more sophisticated pursuits. But that figure, strong, bulky arms, thighs that are corded in muscle and fat, and a belly that makes the most exquisite place for Connor to rest his body on.

“Hank,” he breathes, happy to have his beloved home, finally. He crosses the room in seconds, helps to set aside the stacks of presents that are obscuring Hank’s lovely body, and bursts into a startled, mechanical laugh when he’s met by Hank clad in thick red velvet.

“Where did you get this?” Connor demands, taking in the full sight of Hank’s Santa costume. The older man is grinning winningly, thick eyebrows wiggling as Connor’s shoulders tremble with suppressed laughter.

“You wouldn’t believe the shit you can find at the DPD during Christmas.” A thick arm slips around Connor’s waist to draw him into an embrace, one that smells oddly like baby diapers and mildew. When Connor makes a face, Hank just shrugs and gives Connor a quick kiss. “They got it off a drunk and disorderly mall santa.”

Gavin makes a retching sound, and Connor isn’t sure if it’s from the PDA, the smell of the Santa costume, or the soup that Nines has been forcing him to consume for the past fifteen minutes. Either way, it spurs the RK into action, and he guides Hank towards the kitchen to sit down so he can eat as well. Hank makes less of a fuss than Gavin, but far more than their silent friend, Kamski. The air between Hank and he is strange, but Nines and Connor do their best to melt it, and it mostly works by the time they’ve broken out the spiked eggnog and pie (storebought, Hank had said that some things were too sacred to let Connor’s bad cooking destroy). The house is warm from the fire roaring in the living room and the smiles on everyone’s faces, and when Connor watches Hank, he knows he feels the same warmth too.

They settle around the tree, cramming into Hank’s living room that just doesn’t have enough space for all of them and a St. Bernard. Unfortunately, that means relocating the dog to the kitchen for the time being so that they can open one present each from each person on Christmas Eve. It’s a tradition, according to Hank, and Connor is eager to partake in any tradition Hank holds dear.

Gavin is thrilled with Nines’ gift, less thrilled with Hank’s and Connor’s--a package of razors so he can shave and “clean up his act.” Well, they’d thought it was funny at least. Connor’s gift to Nines is at least a little more thought out.

Nines stares at it in wonder, silent, holding the glass bauble with a kind of delicacy that no one has seen him manage with anything aside from Gavin’s cheeks. “Connor…” Steel blue glances up, a little watery, and Connor shyly tucks himself into Hank’s side.

The ornament probably looks like something that a child would have made--crude, ugly. There’s glue that’s clumped in weird spots and paint that has little fingerprint smudges. In CyberSans font and blue glitter, Connor has written. The Greatest Gift of All Is a Brother.

Nines is silent for a moment longer, but he cups his hands around the ornament like a fragile snowflake ready to crumble and carries it slowly to the tree to be proudly displayed. Connor swallows a little thickly when Nines turns to him and tears are on his cheeks.

It’s more than Connor can handle, and he loudly clears his throat before shoving a box at Hank. “Yours!” he squeaks, and Hank’s laughter rumbles through his large belly, moving Connor with it.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Connor’s head and pulling him up onto his lap as he begins a methodical process of unwrapping his gift. It’s not at all what Connor would expect from Hank who seems like the type to rip open paper with his meaty fingers. But he’s careful with the gift, like he treasures even the time it took Connor to wrap it.

“Just open it!” Connor demands a little petulantly, snuggling down further into Hank’s hold. Now that his shoddy craftsmanship with a glue gun has been exposed, Connor can’t even stand to think of the reaction to...well...this.

“Fuck,” Hank murmurs, besotted. Connor refuses to meet the man’s gaze, even as Hank turns the little creation to and fro at Connor’s slumped eye level. It’s. Well. It’s made from a Chicken Feed cup, or part of it, at least, just a slice from the top and the lid. Connor’s glued the straw there, and from the straw, he’s hung a coin. Not just any coin, actually. The coin he had when he’d met Hank.There are feathers--a pigeon’s--decorating the edge. It’s stupidly sentimental and stupidly ugly, and Gavin snorts.

Nines elbows him sharply.

“Connor,” Hank starts, but Connor pouts and refuses to look, “baby...It’s perfect.” When Connor pouts harder, Hank grabs his chin and pulls his face toward him. “All the good things,” he whispers, undetectable to the others but knowing Connor will hear him. It’s enough for Connor to relax a little, to lean his head into the kiss Hank plants on his nose. He’d made it to remind Hank, as he promised that first day of the rest of his life, of all the good things. Their meeting, their journey, what’s gotten them here.

Hank shifts Connor to the side so he can hang his own ornament on the tree and laughs when Gavin complains that he hadn’t gotten an ornament. Elijah comments that maybe his lack of manners is preventing him from being ornament material. There’s cussing and screeching, and Connor swears he sees a cookie flying. He can’t prove it later though, and he’s almost certain that’s Sumos fault. At least it had been an oatmeal one.

The eggnog disappears, Connor convinces Hank to maybe later let him help the Santa suit disappear despite their guests in the living room, and there are two new ornaments on the growing family Christmas tree. Even… Even Elijah Kamski feels a little like family by the end of the night, chuckling along and sharing humiliating stories of Gavin from their childhood. Sumo finds a spot to sleep in the billionaire’s lap like he isn’t a shelter dog who probably doesn’t get enough baths, and Nines and Gavin retire to the little garage that Hank and Connor have converted into a bedroom. There are photos on every inch of the wall, ones Nines had taken the liberty of hanging himself--Connor and Nines at the park, at the DPD, at Jericho, snuggling Sumo. The dresser holds knickknacks of the strangest variety, anything and everything that Connor has ever given Nines, including post it notes they've passed during work, a tissue to wipe Nines's hands at a crime scene, and some spare change from a thirium purchase. Connor smiles every time he sees it, knowing Nines hangs onto them because he loves Connor, and oh, Connor loves him dearly too. He sometimes can't believe that he managed to survive it all, every odd, every obstacle, but his life beyond the hurt and the uncertainty has been worth it in ways that still shake him to his core just with the sight of a few photos and some loose change.

"Goodnight, brother, Gavin," Connor calls, and there's the sound of wet lips separating.

"Goodnight to you too, brother!" floats a distant but happy reply, and a much grumpier, "Fuck off, Connor, I'm getting laid!...Ouch, Nines! Fine, fine. Night to you too, Connor."

The android collapses onto his bed, smiles at the ceiling, and listens as Hank brushes his teeth and hums a little Christmas jingle quietly. He doesn't often do that, but the deep, dulcet tones of his voice are too lovely to miss, and they lull Connor into stasis slowly and gently.

When he wakes up, the ground is white outside, Hank’s arms are around him tight, he can hear bickering from Nines, Gavin, and Elijah in the kitchen, and… Hank is smiling in his sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” Connor whispers to the world.


End file.
